Damn Rehearsals
by Erenem
Summary: At the barre with his back to John was a tall, skinny man with curly brunette hair, stretching his leg up to the side. John gulped down air, embarrassedly realizing that he had stopped breathing for a bit. John stood in the door and continued to watch the man stretch and bend, wondering the whole time why he couldn't take his eyes off of him.
1. First Rehearsal - Part 1

This fic is dedicated to Jodie who inspired this idea by asking for balletlock headcanons one night, and to Madi, who, along with Jodie, annoyed me until I wrote this, and then encouraged more. They are the reason my little ficlet turned into a fic. ILY, asshats!

John trudged up the stairs, grumbling to himself the whole time. He did not understand why he had to pick up Harry. Why was it his fault that she had gotten herself grounded from her car? Why did he have to be punished as well for her coming home past curfew drunk again? There were so many other things he could be doing right now, like hanging out with all of his rugby buddies or studying for his chemistry exam next week, which he really needed to do so that he didn't fail that class. But no, he had to go pick up his stupid sister from her stupid ballet rehearsal.

John really hated having to pick up Harry from ballet. He always felt so awkward, and then there were all of those girls running around in almost nothing, as tights and leotards left little to the imagination. It was basically hell for a teenage boy. And while John did enjoy the beauty of ballet, he hated the tediousness of their rehearsals. How many times did they have to do the same thing over and over again?

The worst part about picking Harry up from rehearsals was that they almost always ran late. John would get there on time, as was his habit, and then have to sit and wait through at least two more run-throughs of whatever they were rehearsing.

When John finally reached the top of the stairs, he saw that today was no different. He stood at the door of the studio to catch Harry's eye to let her know he was there. She saw him, gave him a small wave, and held up a finger to indicate "one more minute."

_One more minute, my ass_, thought John with a sigh. He was just about to walk off to sit in a seat in the hallway to wait, when he noticed the dancers for the next rehearsal, and stopped dead in his tracks.

At the barre with his back to John was a tall, skinny man with curly brunette hair, stretching his leg up to the side. John gulped down air, embarrassedly realizing that he had stopped breathing for a bit. John stood in the door and continued to watch the man stretch and bend, wondering the whole time why he couldn't take his eyes off of him.

_He's a bloke! Why can't I take my eyes off a bloke? Why did I stop breathing because of a bloke?_

_Well, he may be a bloke, _said another voice inside his head, _but he's still the most beautiful person you've ever seen. _

And he was, John realized. Those long, skinny but muscular arms and legs, that mop of curly hair, his well defined back… _And I haven't even seen his face._

Just as John was thinking that, the man turned around and looked at him with the most piercing grey eyes he had ever seen. Those eyes flicked rapidly over him, and then met his own eyes again before the man smirked at him. That smirk rocked John, and was glad that he was leaning against the door jamb, or he might have fallen over.

Suddenly, there was a rush of girls pushing past him to get into the hallway. Apparently, John had been too entranced to notice that the rehearsal had finally ended. Although now, he was sad that it had ended. It meant he no longer had an excuse to watch the beautiful, curly haired dancer.

Harry bounded up to him, ready to pull him out into the hall so that they could leave, but stopped when she saw the dazed look on his face. She turned to see where he was looking, and then turned back with a smile on her face. Harry touched John's arm, and he looked at her dazedly.

"Who is that?" he asked in an awed whisper.

"Oh, that's Sherlock Holmes. He's new, but he's amazing. He's going to be our Basilio!"

John nodded dazedly, not completely understand what Harry was saying, and Harry led John out of the studio, giggling to herself.

After that, John never complained about picking Harry up again. In fact, he volunteered.

**A/N- **

The ballet that Harry and Sherlock's company is rehearsing is Don Quixote. Basilio is the male lead of the ballet.

For a lovely visual of Sherlock stretching, please look at anotherwellkeptsecret's lovely Balletlock fanart on Tumblr(x)


	2. First Rehearsal - Part 2

Sherlock was annoyed. Well, Sherlock was almost always annoyed, but he was even more so right now. Maybe irritated was a better word. Or exasperated. Maybe aggravated. Whatever the appropriate word was for his emotion, Sherlock was definitely feeling put-out. The rehearsal before his had run over, _again_.

_How incompetent were these people that they have not yet learned how to effectively and efficiently run a rehearsal? Why did I come to this stupid ballet company again?_

Sherlock knew exactly why he was at this ballet company. He had been "politely" asked to leave his former company after all of the girls refused to dance with him. Which of course was incredibly stupid, as he had been, by far, the best male dancer in that company. He didn't understand how pointing out the truth was any of his fault. All he had said was that their boyfriends were cheating on them, or that their best friend was talking about them behind their backs, or that they were half a beat too slow during one piece, or that they really needed to work on their turn out, or that they really needed to remember to point their toes. He was just trying to be helpful, but apparently that made him an asshole. An asshole that nobody wanted to dance with, even though he was the best. His parents hadn't wanted to make a scene, though, and so he had left and ended up here, at the next best studio in London.

_A studio where they do not know how to tell time._

Sherlock had already gone through his pre-rehearsal warm-up, as he had arrived 15 minutes before his rehearsal was supposed to start. Sherlock really loved dancing; it was one of the few things he actually did enjoy. He loved the beauty and grace of ballet, but also the power and concentration needed for it. He had to think about a million different things all at once – _stomach flat, butt tucked under, legs straight, toes pointed, head up, arms strong, legs turned out, center strong –_ and yet it all had to seem effortless, like it was the easiest thing in the world, like he wasn't thinking anything at all. That dichotomy was what had interested Sherlock to begin with, and then he had learned that he had a natural grace that most dancers would kill for. Therefore, Sherlock was feeling quite perturbed at being forced to wait for something he truly enjoyed.

Since he knew that he would have a few more minutes before the corps had finished rehearsing the Dream Sequence, Sherlock decided to do some more stretching. He performed the usual stretches forward and backwards in order to loosen up his back, and then he turned towards the barre and stretched each leg up to the sides. He was quite proud of his extension, and was always both showing it off and trying to improve it.

While he was stretching, Sherlock felt someone's eyes on him, and turned around to discover their source. A short, compact man with short blonde hair and blue eyes was leaning against the door to the studio, staring at Sherlock with naked admiration, with his mouth unknowingly open. Sherlock felt the flicker of something in his stomach as his eyes flicked over the man as he deduced him.

_Picking up his sister from practice – she must be in the corps. Obviously that Watson girl's older brother. Doesn't actually want to be here, is only picking her up because she can't use her car. She must have come home drunk again last weekend. Is in good shape, plays rugby at school. Maybe 2-3 years older than me, living at home while at college to save money. Studying something to do with science, a doctor maybe? Very attractive, obviously attracted to me, though he isn't usually attracted to men. Interesting._

Sherlock rarely found anyone interesting. He looked back into those dark blue eyes and smirked, which turned into a genuine smile when he saw just how much his smile affected the man.

Sherlock was just thinking of going over and introducing himself, when suddenly the attractive blonde was obstructed from his view by a gaggle of girls. He blinked, confused, and looked around, just now noticing that the earlier rehearsal had finally ended.

_Now? Did it have to end now, just when things were beginning to get interesting? Insufferable people!_

Sherlock turned back to look at the handsome stranger just as the Watson girl bounded up to him. She touched his arm, then looked back at Sherlock before turning to her brother with a smirk on her face. They talked for a minute, but the babble of several girls talking at the end of the rehearsal prevented Sherlock from overhearing their conversation. After one last look of longing, the man allowed his sister to pull him away from the studio and Sherlock. Now that his rehearsal was finally beginning, he couldn't run after them. It was just his luck that his rehearsal would finally begin just when he didn't want it to.

Reluctantly, he focused on his rehearsal, losing himself in the dance and concentrating on his partner, but as soon as rehearsal was over, he allowed his thoughts to linger on the handsome Watson.

He seriously hoped that rehearsals ran long again next weekend.


End file.
